The Whole World's a Stage
by I.A. Black
Summary: They had lost. They had lost years ago and he had given up along with it. At least he had thought so. Until that last battle. Until he had woken up twenty years in the past. Now Harry has to decide if he wants to turn the world on its axis by force or play the strings in the shadows.


Green eyes scanned the destroyed buildings around him, taking in the wasted scenery around him. Grinning wryly, the man hummed an upbeat tune, marking five dark wizards hiding in various positions around him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and _moved._

They didn't stand a chance. Only five this time? Insulting. Harry took down two of them with a dark green curse before they even knew that they had been compromised. One of the remaining three realized with a sense of growing horror that this had been a suicide mission all along. He had enough time to mutter a strangled expletive before a severing curse took his head.

The fourth wizard turned with the intent of apparating, only to come face to face with a wand. His last image was of a red flash and then there was nothing.

From a dark corner, the fifth and final member of the little team watched in horror as each of the others were slowly massacred. Closing his eyes and murmuring a quick prayer to whatever deity may be listening, he took a step out of his hiding spot and waited for the assassin to come to him.

Not one to disappoint, Potter moved out from the shadow of one of the buildings, broken things breaking even further beneath his shoes. He gazed at his opponent with an amused smile. "Come now. Surely you've realized this entire thing is futile?"

Shivering at the raspy voice of the boy-who-lived, the dark wizard idly thought of sulfur and brimstone. He steeled himself and said in as firm a voice as he could manage, "You won't win this war, Potter. You lost years ago."

Green eyes vanished from sight as Harry closed them, sighing deeply. Tilting his head back, he opened them once more to gaze at the grey sky. "It's going to rain, you know."

The nondescript wizard opposite him flinched at the nonchalant tone of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"It was going to be such a nice day, too." Taking a deep breath, Harry rolled his head so that he was gazing at the only other living man within five miles. Those green eyes pierced his own brown ones, causing a shiver of fear to run down his spine and the tiny hairs on his neck to stand up. "Such a shame you and yours had to ruin it. Although I do have to admit I had been oh so bored."

Losing any of the resolve he had originally had, the dark wizard shakily whimpered out, "You've lost the war, Potter." His only response was dry laughter.

"Oh, that I've known for years." With that last answer, the dark wizard saw his opponent move and hastily threw out a powerful shield charm, only to watch in horror as the spell went straight through it and he saw no more.

Turning away from the dead wizard, Harry tilted his head back once more, feeling rain begin to hit his face. 'What a world we've come to live in.' Sighing, he spun on the spot and apparated to the current safe house of the remaining wizards of London. He ruffled his hair to get as much rain off as possible, throwing open the door forcibly, causing the wizard on guard to scramble back in shock. Harry rolled his eyes at the fear visible on the other man's face. He moved into the hall and out into the dining area. The noise slowly tapered off as they realized who was standing in the doorway. He saw a few of them swallow in fear and none of them would meet his eyes. 'Such hypocrites. Happy with results, as long as they don't see what we do to get them.' Sneering at one unfortunate wizard who had gotten too close, he grabbed a roll and went to retire to his room. Absentmindedly he wondered what Hermione would think of his thoughts, before shoving that away. It's not like there was anyone left he cared about anyway. No one to see his decline into madness. As if he wasn't half-way there already.

Shoving the roll into his mouth, he stripped off his blood-stained clothes. With a sigh he half-heartedly cast a cleaning charm on his body. Rummaging around in his drawer, he pulling out the only other outfit he had, pulling it on and throwing himself at the makeshift bed. There was nothing else to it. They were losing the war. Hell, they had lost the war a good 15 years ago and nobody had actually realized it. He threw his arm over his eyes, wincing slightly as he felt the pull of the wound on his shoulder he had received a good two days ago. With no medi-wizard at hand, he had to rely on the meager healing spells he knew. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. Turning over, he waved his hand, wandlessly turning out the lights.

Harry closed his eyes and made to fall asleep, secure in the knowledge that another day in Hell was over and that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow a stray curse would finally finish him off and he'd be rid of this godawful place.

It was the screaming that drew Harry from his sleep, his wand in hand, heart hammering, instantly awake. 'Someone must've breached the wards.' He threw on his bloodied clothes, elder wand clamped between his teeth. Throwing open his door, he was nearly bowled over by a blonde man. Irritated, Harry snarled out, "What the fuck, Jacques?"

The blonde man blinked at him in shock. Recovering quickly, Jacques murmured, "Death eaters. Looks like the full force of whatever remained. It doesn't look good." Blue eyes met green.

Harry snorted and turned around to stride down the hall, his red battle robes flaring out around him. He was jerked around by the other man, Harry's wand immediately at his throat.

"For fuck's sake, Harry! Take something seriously for once. We're all going to die here!" He looked terrified. "Can't something touch that goddamn head of yours or has insanity finally taken you over?"

Harry glared at the other man. Scowling, he shoved Jacques' hand off him. "Wake up, Renoir. We were always going to die here. It was just a matter of when."

Angry, Jacques grabbed the other by the shoulders and shoved him against the wall. "So that's it, Potter? After everything we've been through? You just give up here." A broken laugh drifted past his lips. "Who the fuck am I kidding. You gave up years ago. You've just been going through the motions." The blonde shook his head before slumping down to rest against the other man's chest.

Harry gazed up at the ceiling, face eerily blank. Finally, he sighed and grabbed the other by the hair, pulling him back roughly. Belying his actions, Harry's raspy voice was soft. "We never had a chance to begin with, you silly fool." He rested his forehead against the blonde's. Tracing Jacques' jaw with his fingers, he winced at the scar that was there due to his own negligence. "Come on, if we're going to die, we might as well take most of the fuckers with us."

And with a start he suddenly realized that he had been wrong. There was one more he loved that he would lose. With a heavy heart, he turned down the hall towards death.

There was blood and death everywhere. Harry had jumped into the fray, throwing out curse after curse that killed on impact, taking down five wizards nearly instantaneously, their blood barely visible against the red fabric of his robes. And yet he knew it wouldn't be enough. Ducking a killing curse, he threw back a parselspell that ripped away the other's skin slowly. Screaming, his opponent went down and Harry cast another killing curse, ending his life. He glanced wildly around, wiping blood off his face, attempting to find Jacques amongst the chaos. Distracted, he barely managed to turn just enough to avoid being hit full on by a cutting curse. Snarling in rage, the dark-haired man slapped a sloppy healing spell at it and turned to throw a fiendfyre curse at the wizard that had dared. The fire raged out of his wand, burning serpents that twisted around the other wizard as he screamed and tried to put them out.

Lips twisting into a grotesquely satisfied smirk, Harry turned only to stop dead as he spotted the French wizard facing him, his blue eyes wide with shock. Green eyes trailed down to stop at the gaping hole in the blonde's stomach and Harry felt his heart stop in his chest. Numbly, he watched the only other person he had cared about for the last 10 years fall to the ground, dead. For a good minute the battle raged on around him as he stared at the body before him. Beginning to shake, Harry heard screaming around him before belated realizing him that the anguished sound came from him. With fire in his eyes he choked out a sob. He spun, feeling the earth crack beneath him as his magic responded to his desperation. He choked back tears as he felt wind whip around him and lightning strike the ground around him in spontaneous bursts. People were screaming, scrambling together, foe and ally alike trying to get away from the dark wizard before them.

It was with dawning horror that Harry realized he had lost control.

It was with dawning horror that Harry realized he didn't even have the ability to care that he was killing allies along with enemies.

It was with dawning horror that Harry realized that he had lost himself in this disgusting facade of a war.

And it was with dawning horror that Harry realized that he had no way to dodge the killing curse flying at his face.

And it was with a dawning finality that Harry wished with his very existence that this would be it, that he could finally be with everyone he loved again and that he could finally rest. He should have known better.


End file.
